


tie our hearts together, chamber by chamber

by MagicaLyss



Series: Bluer Than The Sky (Whumptober 2019) [27]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Pepper Potts Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Peter Parker Needs a Break, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is a Mess, Precious Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:46:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22025794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicaLyss/pseuds/MagicaLyss
Summary: Whumptober Day Thirty. RecoveryPeter swallows hard, trying to swallow down his emotions that threaten to drown him. There’s no argument he can make, he doesn’t even disagree. He shouldn’t have been there at all. There’s no good reason why a sixteen-year-old should be involved in a war let alone the one to make the sacrifice play.“If it were anyone else, if it were you,” Peter says, shaking his head. “My arm compared to someone else’s life-”
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Peter Parker & Pepper Potts, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Bluer Than The Sky (Whumptober 2019) [27]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1502675
Comments: 11
Kudos: 389





	tie our hearts together, chamber by chamber

There was something strange about waking up that day.  
  


The strange thing was, Peter didn’t think he was going to wake up at all that day. Or _ever_ for that matter.  
  


Out there on the battlefield, gauntlet fitting around his hand, he thought _this is it_. He made his acceptances with death.  
  


So waking up? It’s a little bit confusing.  
  


The one thing that sticks out is the sweater he’s got on. It’s not his, the MIT logo embroidered into the front of the sweater. It’s too big on him, slipping down his collarbones, and revealing the white bandages covering his left shoulder… where his arm is missing.  
  


He doesn’t panic like he thought he would. Maybe he’s just too drugged up on pain meds to really panic in any way, he just pulls the blanket over the spot his arm used to be, and turns his attention to the window beside his bed.  
  


The New York skyline makes him feel a little more at home, night sky casting his room in a gentle white glow, but it doesn’t really help with the loneliness that creeps it’s way up his throat.  
  


“Friday?” he tries, despite knowing he couldn’t be in the tower or at the compound. The room is unfamiliar and cold and empty.  
  


Unsurprisingly, there’s no response, so he pushes himself up, nearly slipping when he momentarily forgets about his lack of a left arm. It’s a weird thing to forget, but the pain meds are making his vision blurry. At least that means he’s somewhere with the kinds of drugs that work on him.  
  


Fear is beginning to set into his chest alongside the aching loneliness, so, fumblingly, he pulls the IV out of his right hand with his teeth, and starts making work of the other tubes and wires poking out of him.  
  


Almost immediately, he’s dizzy with the exertion of moving around, but he needs to find somebody he knows. Needs, desperately, to find May or Tony or even just a doctor.  
  


His socked feet hit the ground, and he starts forward, catching himself on the wall when he nearly falls, weight off-balance and head spinning.  
  


His arm is gone, he’s alone, he can’t breathe, black spots are dancing across his vision, and he needs help.  
  


And then, somehow, “Are you okay?”  
  


He looks up, blinking rapidly and hand clinging onto the doorframe.  
  


A little girl is standing just beyond his room, brown eyes wide with a sort of innocent worry and inquisition. She’s wearing a sweater almost identical to his, except hers is mahogany whereas his is navy blue.  
  


“No,” he says, panic finally setting in and encircling his lungs like a rubber band. “Need help.”  
  


The little girl, face scrunching up as she frowns, races into one of the attached rooms through a swinging door.  
  


He assumes she must not be coming back then, sinking to his knees as he gasps for breath. He’s missing an arm. His left arm is gone. _Gone_.  
  


“Peter?”  
  


His head jerks up at his name, hating that he’s on the floor just outside his hospital room, crying and panicking like he’s a child.  
  


Tony’s suddenly there, hands on either side of his face, _two hands,_ and eyes filled with worry. He opens his mouth to speak, but the little girl has followed him back to Peter.  
  


“Is Petey okay?” she asks. He wants to question how he knows her, who she is, what’s going on, but he just gasps for air, listing forward into Tony’s chest as he loses his grip on the doorframe.  
  


“C’mon, Peter, breathe for me, yeah? You’re okay, I promise. I’ve got you,” Tony soothes quietly. And then he’s speaking louder, away from Peter’s head, “You wanna go find Bruce, Morgan, tell him Peter needs help, okay?”  
  


The girl, _Morgan_ , nods quickly and turns on her heels, heading for the swinging door again.  
  


“Peter, buddy, you wanna focus up?” Tony continues, soft and soothing again. He’s holding Peter strong against his chest, one hand in Peter’s hair, and the other rubbing circles into Peter’s back, _two hands_. “I need you to breathe, okay? I’ll answer any questions you have once you’re breathing right and back in your bed.”  
  


Peter hides his face against Tony’s shoulder, clinging onto his shirt with his hand, _his only hand_ , and cries.  
  


“My- My arm,” he sobs, shaking in Tony’s hold. “My- Mister Stark, my arm, it’s- it’s-”  
  


Tony’s arms, _arms_ , tighten around Peter, pressing a kiss to Peter’s temple. “I know, buddy, I know. It’s okay, it’s going to be okay, I promise. You just have to focus on breathing.”  
  


Lungs come in pairs like arms are meant to. “Mister Stark, I- I can’t- I-”  
  


“Breathe, kiddo. That’s the most important thing for you right now.” Tony’s lungs are expanding just beneath Peter’s head in careful, deliberate breaths. “Follow mine, c’mon, kiddo, I know you can do it.”  
  


Just as Peter manages to catch his breath, face staying hidden in the crook of Tony’s shoulder, Morgan returns with Bruce.  
  


“Daddy?” Morgan says with so much pure childish innocence. “Petey okay?”  
  


Tony hugs him just a little tighter. “Petey’s gonna be okay, that right, kiddo?”  
  


Peter just manages a muffled sob in response against Tony’s shoulder.  
  


“Let’s get him back to bed,” Bruce says, voice quiet and filled with sympathy. “He needs his rest.”  
  


Peter doesn’t try to make it easier for them, keeping his face tucked away and hand, _singular hand_ , clutching Tony’s shirt, as they slowly manage to maneuver him back to his hospital bed.  
  


The blankets are pulled up to his waist, IV and wires and tubes all replaced, and Tony settles down on the edge of Peter’s bed, staying close enough for Peter to not have to let go.  
  


“We didn’t have a choice,” Bruce says, guilt making his voice waver. He’s hovering by the bed and Peter can feel his eyes on him as he cries into Tony’s shirt. “It wasn’t- Even with your healing…”  
  


“It’s not your fault,” Tony’s quick to say, looking at the doctor over Peter’s head. “He doesn’t blame you either, you know him well enough to know that. He’s just overwhelmed, I think.”  
  


“Daddy?” Peter peeks over Tony’s shoulder to see the little girl still standing in the doorway. She looks uncertain but with the same air of innocent inquisition. “Does Petey need a juice pop?”  
  


Peter can feel Tony’s silent laughter. “Why don’t you go ask your mom and May to find you and Pete some juice pops and we’ll see if it makes him any better?”  
  


“What color?” Morgan asks, looking at Peter now with her wide eyes. “Blue is the best and yellow is yucky, but there’s lots of colors you can pick.”  
  


Tony rubs his back encouragingly as Peter tries to think through his tears.  
  


“What ‘bout red?” he says, voice hoarse and trembling. But Morgan doesn’t seem to mind, instead lighting up in a smile.  
  


“Red and Blue like S’ider-Man!” she exclaims, making the signature Spider-Man hands with her middle and ring fingers against her palms. And then she’s racing out of the room without another word to find Pepper and May, Peter assumes.  
  


Peter looks over his shoulder where Bruce is still loitering with guilt pulling his face into a frown. “I don’t blame you, ‘s not your fault.”  
  


The doctor offers a half-smile, looking teary-eyed. “Thanks, kid, but you-”  
  


He cuts himself off suddenly, rubbing a hand, _one of his two hands_ , under his glasses and over his eyes.  
  


“You shouldn’t have had to make the sacrifice, Peter,” Tony says, pulling away just enough to look at Peter properly. “Out of everyone there on that fucking _battlefield_ , you shouldn’t have been the one to- Fuck, Peter, you’re just- you’re just a _kid_ , and you-”  
  


Peter swallows hard, trying to swallow down his emotions that threaten to drown him. There’s no argument he can make, he doesn’t even disagree. He shouldn’t have been there at all. There’s no good reason why a sixteen-year-old should be involved in a war let alone the one to make the sacrifice play.  
  


“If it were anyone else, if it were _you_ ,” Peter says, shaking his head. “My arm compared to someone else’s life-”  
  


“No, fuck that.” Tony cups Peter’s face in his hands, _his two hands,_ sadness burning in his eyes. “It doesn’t matter whether or not you’re a superhero. You’re a child, Peter, do you understand that? _A child_. You shouldn’t have had to- I’m just happy you’re here, you’re back, you’re alive. And I’m not losing you. Not again, you hear me?”  
  


Peter nods, leaning into Tony’s calloused palms, _two palms, two hands_. “Understood.”

  
*  
  
  
Peter can’t help but to break down all over again when May, Pepper, and Morgan arrive. Something about seeing his Aunt May for what feels like the first time in a long time, too long, and the last he saw her, he was leaving for a field trip to MoMA, what was technically five years ago, but only feels like a few days.  
  


“Oh, Peter, baby,” she says, gathering him up in her arms, _arms_ , and holding him close. “You’re alright, I’ve got you.”  
  


It doesn’t matter who’s got him or if he’s okay, he lost five years of his life and one of his arms. He _died._ No amount of soothing words could ever make that seem less daunting.  
  


And then Morgan wanders up to the bed, eyes wide and smiling unknowingly up at him and she holds up two juice pops.  
  


“Will a juice pop make you feel better?”  
  


He pulls away from May, still feeling weird and off-balance, but accepts the offering. He can’t seem to stop crying, especially when Tony has to quickly grab the juice pop from him because he can’t open the package one-handed.  
  


But there’s something so loving and adoring shining in Tony’s eyes when Peter and Morgan are settled and eating their Spider-Man colored juice pops, that Peter can’t help but to let that expression catch in his chest and he holds it there, allowing it to bloom into something that feels a little like hope.

  
*  
  
  
After resting for a few quiet days, Peter’s finally allowed to leave the hospital. Turns out, after Peter snapped, they had to take him to the nearest hospital they could, and Tony and Pepper had to argue their way into letting Peter and Bruce have a room without any doctors.  
  


It’ll be nice to get out of the hospital, except he’s not exactly sure where _home_ is anymore. Their apartment is gone, all of his things donated, the tower’s been sold, the compound destroyed.  
  


So when they arrive to a quaint little cabin far away from the city, he’s a little bit surprised, but he’s too preoccupied to bother asking too many questions.  
  


May helps him out of the car, an arm, _one of her two arms_ , around his waist to keep him balanced as they head up to the house.  
  


They sit him down on the couch and Morgan crawls up beside him, rubbing sleep from her eyes.  
  


“Is there anything you need, Peter?” Pepper asks, sitting on the coffee table across from them.  
  


He shakes his head quietly, tears burning at his eyes, but he blinks them back.  
  


“Honey-” May starts to say, taking a step forward.  
  


“I’m okay,” he says.  
  


Everyone lets his lie slide, faces filled with sympathy.

  
*  
  
  
Peter hits the ground hard, unable to catch himself with his hand, _singular hand_ , crying out when he hits his head on the edge of the coffee table.  
  


The nightmares are still racing through the front of his head, heart pounding in his chest, and blood beginning to drip down his forehead.  
  


“Daddy!” Morgan screams, cutting through the dreams that threatened to overwhelm him and he starts to cry, grabbing at his chest with his hand, _singular hand_ , when the breaths don’t enter his lungs.  
  


“Oh, Peter,” Tony says, pulling Peter into a sitting position when he reaches him. “C’mon, buddy, you know this song and dance by now, don’t you?”  
  


He does, he knows he needs to breathe, needs to copy Tony’s deliberately slow breaths, but he doesn’t know if he _wants_ to. He sort of wishes he never came back from the snap, never left the school bus that day, maybe never decided to go on that field trip to MoMA. If he were home, he would’ve woken up with May, not on an alien planet to fight a second war in a matter of minutes to him.  
  


And to lose his fucking arm.  
  


Anger explodes within him like a spark starting a wildfire, but there’s not much he can do but cry into Tony’s shoulder.  
  


“I hate this,” he sobs, clenching his fist, _singular fucking fist_ , until he pierces the skin. “I hate this, I don’t wanna- I don’t wanna do this anymore. Tony, please, I can’t-”  
  


Tony doesn’t say anything, just hugs him a little tighter.  
  


  
Eventually, they don’t have a choice but to head into the bathroom where Peter’s sat down on the edge of the bathtub while Tony carefully cleans and bandages Peter’s forehead, and wraps his palm, _singular palm_ , to cover the crescent moon shaped cuts.  
  


Afterwards, Tony takes him back to the couch where Morgan’s waiting with a stuffed bunny and two juice pops again. She passes him one, another red one.   
  


“I can’t fucking-” he says, voice raising a little in his anger. His hand, _singular fucking hand_ , can’t open the stupid packaging and he hates it. He hates that he can’t do anything by himself.  
  


Tony seems ready to reprimand him for swearing in front of Morgan, but he doesn’t. Instead, he just opens the package for Peter and gives him the juice pop.  
  


And Peter’s angry and he’s still kind of crying and his hand won’t stop shaking and Tony’s eyes are shining with guilty sympathy and he hates everything.  
  


And then Pepper arrives.  
  


There’s no sympathy, no pity, just a sort of gentle affection in her eyes as she stops in the doorway.  
  


“What do you want for lunch?” she asks, somehow managing not to look the least bit concerned about the blood on her carpet. “What did I say about juice pops before meals, Little Miss?”  
  


Morgan, in all her childish purity, points at Peter. “It was Petey’s idea, not mine.”  
  


“Was it, now?” Pepper asks, lifting Morgan into her arms, _arms because she has two_ , with a teasing smile. “And was it also Peter’s idea to leave all the juice pops melting on the counter?”  
  


And Morgan nods, keeping a straight face. “Yep, he wanted to make juice.”  
  


Pepper rolls her eyes, and turns her attention on Peter. “Sandwiches alright for lunch?”  
  


He nods, knowing he must look like a complete disaster, but she doesn’t mention it and he couldn’t be thankful enough for that.  
  


“Thanks, Miss Potts.”  
  


Pepper grins, lifting one of her hands _, one of her hands because she fucking has two_ , and a wedding band sparkles in the sunlight.  
  


“It’s Mrs Stark now, actually,” she says. “But sandwiches it is.”  
  


She leaves the room with Morgan before Peter has the opportunity to question any of it, so he turns to Tony with wide eyes.  
  


“Five years, huh?” he says. It’s the first time he’s brought it up. “I missed a lot.”  
  


“I guess you did, yeah. Me and Pep got married and Morgan came to be… I- I never stopped thinking about you, kid, I hope you know that. I missed you like crazy and I was- I was just trying to live my life the way I knew you wanted me to… Even if you weren’t there.”  
  


Peter swallows thickly, setting his juice pop down in the package on the coffee table. “Why then? Why’d you decide to reverse it five years later?”  
  


He doesn’t say the rest. That he wishes Tony never did.  
  


“Scott Lang, actually,” Tony says. His eyes are sad still, pools of pain. “It’s a long story. A boring one… Listen, Peter, I-”  
  


“If you’re going to follow that with an apology, I really don’t want to hear it,” Peter says bluntly. “Rather not, right now, if that’s alright.”  
  


Tony’s silence is all that answers him, so he lets his head fall into his palm, _his singular palm,_ covering his eyes, taking slow deliberate breaths to quench the panic that starts to fill his chest again.

  
*  
  
  
Sandwiches are hard and going outside is hard and hugging is hard and staying awake is hard and not crying is hard and keeping the panic at bay is hard.  
  


In all, it’s just hard. Difficult. Not fun.  
  


But he doesn’t have much of a choice but to keep pushing forward moment by moment.  
  


And that night, if he cries in his new bed, in this new house, all by himself because he can’t find it in him to ask for help, well, nobody needs to find out.

  
*  
  
  
Tony gets him a physical therapist. The same one that Rhodey had after the Accords fight. So she’s nice and she understands. But she’s got _two fucking arms_ so it hurts him a little bit more than he likes to admit.  
  


He waits three weeks of physical therapy and getting his strength before he asks Tony the big question.  
  


“What am I going to do about Spider-Man?” he asks. They’re sitting on the floor of Morgan’s room, the three of them, playing with Legos.  
  


Tony turns to him, the same sad expression on his face. “We’ll figure it out, kiddo, we always do.”  
  


“I wanna go out,” he says. The farthest he’s gone since he left the hospital was down to the lake behind the cabin. Even the physical therapist comes here for him. “Spider-Manning. People need a hero more than ever.”  
  


Tony doesn’t say anything for a long few moments, helping Morgan put a piece on the house she’s building.  
  


“You’re not ready yet, Peter, you know that. But when you are, we’ll figure it out.”  
  


“What about school?” He doesn’t know why he sounds so angry, doesn’t know why he’s lashing out again. “What about my friends? What about all those people who came back and need help? What about-”  
  


Tony runs a hand, _one of his two hands_ , over his face. “You’ve done more than enough already. You brought down an army singlehandedly, Peter, you-”  
  


Tony cuts himself off, eyes widening as he realizes what he said.  
  


Singlehandedly.  
  


He stands up, nods once at Tony, and then heads out of the room without another word.  
  


May’s in the kitchen and she pulls him into a hug as soon as she sees him stumbling into the room, tears already streaking down his face.  
  


He’s just a kid. Just a child. Sixteen-years-old and has fought in more than one war, has _died_ , has made the sacrifice play so many times, lost his arm, and he just- he just wants everything to stop for a second.  
  


He hears Tony stop at the entrance to the kitchen, feels Tony’s eyes trained on his back.  
  


“I’m sorry-” Tony starts, sounding miserable.  
  


“It’s okay, Tony,” May murmurs over Peter’s head. “It’s okay, I’m sure you didn’t mean to.”  
  


 _Singlehandedly_.

  
*  
  
  
Eventually, Peter invites MJ and Ned around. He’s not ready to go back to school yet, barely able to make it a day without crying, normally out of frustration, and going to school   
would make everything a million times worse.  
  


But Happy drives his friends over to the cabin, nearly a month after the snap reversal.  
  


MJ’s face stays nonchalant and uncaring when she sees Peter’s state, but Ned’s whole face drops.  
  


“Oh my god,” he breathes, staring, until MJ elbows him. “How are you?”  
  


“Been better,” he replies quietly. The one thing in his life that doesn’t need to change is their handshake. He only needs one hand to do it.  
  


MJ makes herself at home in the living room, kicking her feet up on the coffee table. They join her on the couch and Peter feels that little bit of hope spark in his chest again.  
  


“How’s everything been?” he asks. “Is- Is everything different out there too?”  
  


“Not too bad,” MJ says. “It’s finally settled down. People are finding their spots in the world and there’s been so much charity help that it’s been accelerating the process of putting everything back to normal.”  
  


Ned nods. “The one big thing that’s left people confused is that… uh, nobody knows what happened. Nobody’s told anyone anything.”  
  


Pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arm, _his one arm_ , around his legs, Peter says, “I know… I, uh, I don’t know anything about what happened in between, but, uh, Thanos, he-”  
  


“You don’t have to,” MJ says quickly, a flicker of worry crossing her eyes. But it’s gone just as quick as it appeared.  
  


“It’s only fair,” Peter says. “Thanos wanted to kill half the population. Wanted balance or some bullshit. All the Avengers tried to fight him. Me, Mister Stark, and a wizard ended up on a spaceship. And uh, he snapped. We lost. So, half the population lost. I don’t know what happened between then, but next thing I knew, I was waking up on that planet like I had just passed out and we fought again.”  
  


Ned puts a hand on Peter’s shoulder. At least he still has two of those.  
  


“We had the gauntlet, the stones. I had it and I- I snapped,” he continues. “Don’t know much after that, but I guess I turned the tides of the army or something. Next thing I knew, I was in a hospital and, you know.”  
  


He shrugs, making the missing arm a little more apparent.  
  


They don’t ask him any questions, don’t demand anymore answers, they just let it slide, and then Ned suggests they watch the new Star Wars movies that came out throughout the five years.  
  


So they settle in and just as the movie’s about to start, MJ turns to him.  
  


“Thank you,” she says, quiet and low. “For everything.”  
  


It somehow, makes it all feel worth it.

  
*  
  
  
Days turn into weeks turn into four months since the snap reversal.  
  


And Tony settles a wrapping paper-covered box on the coffee table in front of him.  
  


He looks up, confusion spreading over his face.  
  


Morgan’s bouncing at his right side. “A present, Petey! Open it!”  
  


May and Pepper look up from where they’d been chatting, and they both smile at him.  
  


“Go for it, kid,” Tony says, looking apprehensive. “If you don’t like it…”  
  


Peter carefully pulls the box onto his lap with Tony’s help and offers the corner to Morgan, “You wanna give me a hand?”  
  


He laughs at his own joke when everybody stares at him with wide eyes, turning his attention back to Morgan who’s started tearing at the wrapping paper.  
  


When the wrapping paper is gone, he opens the box and his jaw drops.  
  


A prosthetic arm.  
  


It’s red and black in design, lightweight, a similar design to the one Peter helped Tony make for Bucky as a peace offering post-accords.  
  


“Oh my god,” he breathes, holding it carefully. “Oh my god.”  
  


“If you don’t like it or if you’d prefer not to wear one, that’s fine too, but, you know-”  
  


Peter quickly puts the prosthetic on the table so he has his arm free to hug Tony.  
  


“Oh my god,” he repeats. “Thank you. Thank you so much. This is- This is crazy.”  
  


Tony smiles and wraps his arms, _arms plural_ , around Peter. “Yeah, of course, your welcome, buddy.”

  
*  
  
  
Slowly, piece by piece, Peter starts putting his life back together.  
  


He starts seeing a therapist, Tony’s old one, and he confides in her about everything he’s been feeling. Bruce and Tony synthesize new medicine for his high metabolism for his mental health.  
  


He continues seeing Rhodey’s old physical therapist, but less often because he’s starting to do better on his own.  
  


He starts going to school again. With MJ and Ned at his side, nobody says anything to him, not even Flash.  
  


May and him have rooms in the cabin, but they manage to track down some of their old things that got put into storage. Pepper takes them shopping not long later, and Peter makes his room at the cabin his own.  
  


Morgan and him start hanging out more often, playing outside and Peter even learns how to swim with only one arm. Peter’s got his Spider-Man abilities on his side to be able to do all the kid stuff despite everything, so he starts being more of a big brother towards her.  
  


Tony invites Bucky around one weekend and Peter finally feels like he can talk about what it’s been like. Bucky and Sam tease him, but in a sweet kind of a way, everyone else has been walking on eggshells around him, so it’s nice to be teased and to make stupid jokes about what happened. They start hanging out more often, and they start training with Peter too.  
  


Life finally feels like it’s falling into place.   
  
  
*  
  
  
“Can we talk to you, honey?” Pepper says, motioning him to the table. She’s got a folder before her and May and Tony are sitting at the table as well.  
  


He sits down, offering a smile. He’s not wearing his prosthetic, he doesn’t bother wearing it on lazy days like this one, but he doesn’t think about it as much anymore. It’s just the way it is.  
  


“Is everything okay?” he asks.  
  


“It doesn’t need to be made official or anything, but since you’re staying here with us now, we wondering if you’d like to make it official,” Tony starts. He’s smiling and for once, there’s no sadness, no sympathy, no guilt in his expression. “We were wondering if you’d like us to become your legal guardians.”  
  


Before Peter can answer, May jumps in. “I’d still be your legal guardian as well, but it would be more a co-parenting thing, you know? So you’d be all of ours.”  
  


“You too?” Peter says, looking at Pepper. He knew Tony thought of him as his kid, but there was some part of him that was always a little bit insecure about the idea that Pepper only tolerated him for Tony’s sake.  
  


“If that’s what you want, then I’d love to be apart of your life too, honey,” she says.  
  


“Really?” he asks. The spark of hope that had come and gone over the past few months, bursts alive and starts a wildfire within him. “Oh my god, yes! This so crazy! Yes, of course, I’d love that.”  
  


The papers are signed and they all hug him and he makes up for it by hugging them twice as hard. I Love You’s are passed around the group hug and Peter finally, _finally_ , feels like everything is right in the world again.  
  



End file.
